Victory Season
by Anna Fay
Summary: He said nothing, only put his hand on the table next to hers, then curled his fingers into a fist. Seeing it made Effie frown in confusion. Hand flat against the table then up in a fist; when in the company of sponsors it was the sign they used to tell the other to stop whatever they were doing and stay silent. It was a sign they never ignored.


"I'm sorry I'm late." Effie marched in to the dining area and all but slammed her notes on the table before she walked on briskly to fetch a cup of tea.

"Is everything all right?" asked Cinna with a slight frown.

"Peachy," she replied. "Except that our phone is out of order." She placed the pot back to its holder and joined the rest of the team at the table.

"Who'd you like to call?" Haymitch looked at her above the rim of his glass.

"The Headquarters of course." She put a lump of sugar in her cup and started stirring it carefully as if to calm herself. "But maybe it's for the best," she added, watching the light dancing on the surface of the tea. "This way I'll get to sleep on it, and come forward with the complaint with a cool head."

"Complaint?" echoed Haymitch.

"Yes." She raised the cup to her lips. "First the incident at the Reaping, and now this... I won't take it any longer."

Both men seemed to freeze upon hearing her words. Cinna even held his breath for a second before he looked at Haymitch first, then turned towards Effie. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," she nearly hissed. "I can't just stand aside and watch my victors' Tour getting ruined by some trigger-happy bufoons."

The silence they gave her this time felt even heavier than the one before, so when Haymitch finally broke it by emptying his glass and letting the cubes of ice in it crash against his upper lip and each other, Effie couldn't help snapping at him.

"What?" she demanded, and it almost shocked her how shrill she sounded even to her own ears.

"I don't think you should do it," he said, licking his lips.

"Whyever not?" She pushed her tea slightly to the side.

"It'll mean an awful lot of paperwork," he stated with a smile that didn't have a hint of mirth in it.

"Don't worry, you won't have to touch any of it," she said coldly. "I'll do it," she added and leaned a little closer to him over the table. "Although as their mentor, I think it would be nice of you to participate."

Seeing his expression change, it wouldn't have surprised her if Haymitch had stood up and stormed out then and there, but he stayed and went alarmingly still. "You can file as many complaints as your little heart desires," he said in an even voice, "but it will do those kids no good. So as their mentor, I suggest you to let it go."

"I won't," she stated flatly. "It's bad enough that you are willing to, but–"

"Princess," Haymitch cut her off. "Just let it go."

She was about to say something truly unpleasant, when she felt Cinna's touch on her forearm.

"He is right, and you know it, Effie." He tried to pacify her, but she only turned her eyes away from Haymitch and to the stylist when he wrapped her hand in his. "You know how slow these things can get. Your complaint won't even reach the Head Gamemaker's table before the Tour ends, and once it does, they'll just drag them back to the Capitol to go through an endless string of hearings, before they may or may not give the peacekeepers involved a warning. Don't do that to them. Let it go."

Something was amiss.

They were both trying to hide it, but they were working too hard to make her change her mind.

She watched Cinna for a moment longer then looked back at Haymitch. He said nothing, only put his hand on the table next to hers, then curled his fingers into a fist. Seeing it made Effie frown in confusion. Hand flat against the table then up in a fist; when in the company of sponsors it was the sign they used to tell the other to stop whatever they were doing and stay silent.

It was a sign they never ignored.

"Well," she said tentatively, "like I told you; we have no working phone, and I highly doubt I'll have the time to look for one in Ten."

Her announcement made them both relax in their seats, and it was what made her sit up straighter in hers. Something was _truly_ amiss.

They seemed to notice her suspicion too, because after exchanging a quick glance, Haymitch cleared his throat and motioned towards her notes. "Why?" he asked. "What do you have planned for us?"

No matter how odd it was to go back to the original topic of their late night meeting, Effie decided it would be best to roll with it. After all, they still had a Tour to complete, and concentrating on the job was something that always had a calming effect on her.

It still bothered her though that they were keeping something from her.

Haymitch being more interested in the refreshments than in the task at hand was barely out of the ordinary, but Cinna seemed awfully distracted too. He nodded and hummed in agreement every now and then, but she could tell he was only being polite, especially after the half-hearted presentation he held about his part.

"Fine," Effie huffed when he had finished speaking. "Which one of you boys will tell me what's going on here?"

"Nothing," Cinna replied a little too quickly. He must have realised his mistake at once too, because he swallowed hard and even scratched his throat. "We're just–"

"Tired," stated Haymitch. Effie could feel her lips getting pressed together disapprovingly , but before she could have said anything, he went on: "It's been a long day, and tomorrow's not gonna be any shorter either," he said almost pleadingly. "So I suggest we all go to bed now and leave our fate and schedule in your capable hands." He put his elbow back on the table and leaned as close to her as he could.

"I wouldn't say no to getting some sleep neither," Cinna piped up.

"All right," she sighed, seeing that she wasn't going to get any real answers from either of them. "But," she added quickly, "I'll have to discuss the most important details with Katniss and Peeta during breakfast. I expect both of you to be there and pay attention."

"I'll be there as long as there's coffee," said Haymitch with a hand over his heart, knowing very well that Cinna wasn't the one she was trying to warn.

"Then I guess it's time to adjourn our meeting and say good night," she announced, packing up her notes. They had every reason to be drained and they both looked like it too, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of being left out of something, and it hurt.

"Good night," said Cinna. "Breakfast at eight sharp?"

"Yes." She touched his shoulder lightly before hugging her ledger to her chest and walking away without so much as looking at Haymitch.

She knew they had been friends for some time, after all it was Haymitch who had suggested to get Cinna as Twelve's new stylist after the fiasco with the previous one, but she still felt betrayed now that they were teaming up behind her back.

Hoping against all hope that she was just being irrational due to all the stress arranging the Tour and especially what had happened in Eleven had given her, as soon as she reached her compartment, she hit the bathroom and set out to drown her sorrows in as much hot water as the train could provide.

It took her about an hour and almost half a bottle of her favourite pineapple-scented shampoo, but by the time she could hear the knock on the bathroom door, she was feeling almost relaxed.

"What is it?" she cried, refusing to turn off the shower and risk never being able to bring it back to the right temperature.

"Hi." Haymitch opened the door only so much that he could pop his head inside.

"What _is_ it?" she asked as she folded her arms in front of her chest.

"The water's barely warm in my compartment," he said, coming in to the bathroom as if she had invited him in. "I was wondering if you'd be finishing any time soon or I should join you here."

To Effie's surprise he went on locking the door behind himself and crossing the bathroom with three long steps so that he could get inside the shower beside her as he were; fully clothed.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as he slid the cabin's door closed too.

"We need to talk," he whispered urgently. "In here. We are being monitored."

"Oh please, not _this_ again." She rolled her eyes. "Why would–"

"Effie, please." He cut her off by putting both hands on her shoulders. "The kids are in trouble."

That finally had the desired effect on her; she stared at him in silence for a moment before she spoke again: "Trouble? What trouble?"

He seemed to hesitate. He let go of her and reached for the showerhead to turn it slightly to the side so that it wouldn't be directed on his face, then looked back at her and swallowed hard.

"There's a rumour spreading," he whispered so low she had to inch closer to hear him. "They say that their love story is a sham and that the trick they pulled with the berries was an act of defiance."

"That's nonsense," she gasped. "They can get a little shy in front of the camera, but that's not something a bit of experience can't improve."

He shook his head dismissively with an impatient sniff. "They still cheated the Gamemakers out of their grand finale by refusing to fight each other," he said, and Effie suddenly remember how strange he acted when Katniss and Peeta both became victors. Back then she had though he was worried because according to the medics they were both in a pretty bad shape, especially Peeta.

"You knew this would happen," she whispered.

"I feared _something_ would happen." He pushed his wet hair out of his face. "I should have known," he added in a painful voice, and Effie couldn't help noticing how tired he looked.

"What are we going to do now?" she asked, moving a little closer to him.

She could tell he was thinking hard before he spoke. "We need to get them through the Tour without any further incidents like the one that happened today," he said slowly. "From now on they have to look like they are madly in love and humbled by their victory."

"I could make their speeches a little more personal," she suggested.

"No," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "If we do that now, it will look too much like damage control."

"But that's exactly what we need," she argued.

"At this point I doubt a speech on its own would do." He gave her a wry smile.

"So what should we do?" she demanded as she could feel the panic beginning to build up at the base of her throat.

He looked around as if he expected the answer to be written on the tiles, then turned back to her. "You should go and get some sleep." He caressed her face. "Everything will have to go like clockwork tomorrow, and that's your area of expertise."

She moved her face against his hand before out of nowhere another thought hit her: "And you?" she asked.

"I'll just go back to my room to stare at the ceiling while I'm wrecking my brain about what else could be done," he sighed.

"That's not what I meant," she said with a frown. "Are you in trouble too? You are their mentor."

"Oh, you know me, I'm always in trouble," he chuckled, then before she could have reprimanded him for not taking things seriously enough, he stepped closer and cupped her face between his hands. "Don't worry." He looked her in the eye as he rubbed her cheek with a thumb. "I will be fine. The kids will be fine too. We'll just have to be a little more careful from now on."

It sounded a lot like when he had to deal with scared tributes, and he must have sensed that she started wondering if he was lying to her too just to calm her, because he dipped his head and kissed her gently on the lips.

"I promise," he whispered, and Effie decided to believe him, because she had few other options.

"Good." She held on to his wrists for a moment before she let him go and took a step back. "I'll let you finish your shower before we run out of hot water," she said with a tired smile.

"You're very kind." He touched her back as she pushed by him to get out of the cabin. "I'll be quick."

She knew he would be, and sure enough, she had barely begun her evening routine of balms, creams and lotions when he marched out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his wet clothes bundled up in his arm. "Good night, princess." He waved at her with his free hand.

"You can't go out like that!" she gasped, turning around so fast that she very nearly fell off her seat in front of the vanity. "What if the children see you?"

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her innocently. "Do I get to borrow your bathrobe then? It's a bit short, but if we are lucky..."

"I don't see how that would be any more apropriate," she argued, pulling it tighter around herself protectively because she suddenly got hit by the painful mental image of his nakedness accentuated by pink feathers.

"Me neither," Haymitch replied with a grin, as he undoubtedly was coming to the same conclusion. "So what do you suggest?"

"First of all you should stop dripping water all over the carpet." She rushed to his side, untangling the towel from around her head and holding it under his hand. "Then... I think it would be best if you hung your things in the bathroom to dry and stayed for the nigh."

"You think so?" he asked, and Effie was pleased to hear that there wasn't a hint of mocking in his voice.

"I do." She cocked her head to the side. "After all, it's Victory Season."

"Well, I can't argue with _that_ ," he said with a sigh.

"Then don't. Just go." Effie gave him a push on the shoulder then watched him leave with a smirk that promised he'd dump his clothes in the sink at best and would be back within a moment. Not that it bothered her much; as he returned without his clothes or his towel, she raised her chin, returned his smile and decided not to let the circumstances ruin the first night of the Season. Their Season.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think of it._


End file.
